


Dreams of the Devil

by Valdyr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bottom Lucifer (Supernatural), Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, Lucifer Possessing Nick (Supernatural), Lucifer is deceptive, M/M, Sam is lonely, Top Sam Winchester, and needs a hug, because he doesn't need to, but he doesn't lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valdyr/pseuds/Valdyr
Summary: Lucifer uses Jess' face with a purpose (not like in canon) and that is to find Sam. When he gets there, though, he doesn't reveal himself. He meant what he told Nick. He doesn't lie because he doesn't need to. He can get what he wants just as well without it.





	1. Reunion with 'Jess'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just kept nagging at my brain.... hope you enjoy.

Sleeping was nice. And necessary. And right now it eluded Sam, no matter how often he turned this way or that. He sighed in frustration and just turned again when he forgot how to breathe.

"Hey, baby."

JESS? He couldn't even answer at first, only stare at her. It really looked exactly like her. Beautiful in her white nightie, just like the day she died. Because she was _dead_.

"I missed you."

He still needed three more tries that all got stuck in his throat, before he finally got something out:

"Jessica."

But he now also realized that he could not be just trying to sleep anymore. She was dead. For years. There was no other explanation:

"I'm dreaming."

"Or you're not. What's the difference? I'm here."

True. He felt better just seeing her again, even knowing that it was just a dream. Her presence, even just imagined, was already a balm for his troubled soul. He wished he could see her more often.

"I miss you so much."

"I know. I miss you, too."

She took his hand and he felt it, so soft and warm like so many years ago, in a different life.

"What are you doing, Sam?"

"What do you mean?"

"Running away. Haven't we been down this road before?"

"No. It's different now."

"Really?"

"Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I'm a freak."

It hurt to say that out loud, but it was also a relief to have someone to talk to about that. Because he never could tell Jess in real life. He couldn't destroy her innocence like that. But now, now he could talk to her about everything. Even when she disagreed.

"Which is all a big ball of semantics. You know that."

"No."

"Even at Stanford, you knew. You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down maybe, but you knew."

It stung like frostbite to hear Jess of all people say that, even knowing that it was not really her, but the worst thing was that it was true. He had always felt a little ...off. Perhaps that was even the reason why he always wanted to get away from hunting. He just wanted to be normal. But he knew he never could be.

"Baby, that's what got me killed."

"No."

"I was dead from the moment we said hello."

"No."

He just couldn't- he didn't want to believe that. He blamed himself enough already.

"Don't you get it? You can't run from yourself. You can't leave it behind like your brother and you can't hide. Not at a buzzing university full of distractions and in this sorry little village. I mean, does this cluster of cabbins even have a name?"

"It's not that tiny. Last census, Garber had over eight hundred permanent residents."

The brief momemt of relative levity did not change, though, that the coversation ended in tears for Sam. He was hopeless and Jess was dead because of him.

But Lucifer had everything he needed for the next step: Sam was in Garber, Oklahoma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this was a much more sensible thing for Lucifer to do with his visits in Sam's dreams than how canon handled it. Could be wrong, just felt like it. Tell me what you think!


	2. Meeting 'Nick'

Lindsey was nice.

But she was also a civilian. He couldn't get close or she would be the next to die. So he told her as politely as he could that he was not interested and she promptly strutted off to deal a couple customers on the other side of the bar.

Apparently he had not managed to be as polite as he had hoped. But after his recent talk with Jess about how his past would still catch up with him every time he ran and every time it did it would end up killing the people closest to him, he just couldn't take any risks.

So instead he grabbed some used glasses, swiped the table and returned them to the bar, where a single customer sipped on a whiskey the bartender filled back up every once in a while. And as he did so, he heard very bad news:

"Freak hail, lightning strikes, now fire is hitting the town of Hawley tonight."

All his attention zeroed in on the report and when it was done, he couldn't have voiced his thoughts better than the bartender himself:

"Damn. Is it me or does it seem like the end of the world."

It was too true. But to Sam's surprise, he didn't seem to be the only one to think that. The customer at the bar, a middle-aged blond, scoffed at the remark and stopped his sipping to down the whiskey in one go. Well, that was not suspicious at all. Civilians didn't really react like that. But it could also just be Sam's hunting-induced paranoia or the guy was a retired priest or something.

In any case he had no intention of approaching him about his possibly being a hunter, so he went somewhere private and checked Revelations. It was all there. So there was a job in Hawley. He got his phone and ... he hovered over Dean's name for a long time, but ultimately, he dreaded his brother's reaction too much. Would Dean even pick up the phone if he that saw it was Sam calling?

So he called Bobby instead. It still got uncomfortable, of course. Bobby just didn't want to accept that he was not a hunter anymore. But he would have to. Sam hung up on him and spent the rest of the night thinking and regretting and blaming himself.

 

But it still got worse.

"Hey, Sam!"

Shit. Steve, Reggie and Tim, busted right in and called him by his real name. And of course, Lindsey noticed. His excuse sounded silly even to himself - like anyone was actually cruel or dumb enough to call their kid 'Keith Sam' - but Tim played along, so she believed it and soon left them alone again, albeit only after the unwanted visitors had praised his skill as a hunter.

Which he no longer was. Which no-one accepted. So he could easily accept the apology for the thoughtless use of his name. Because that was not the problem he had with them. That would be the insistent prodding and pressuring to come hunt or say why couldn't. Which he could not say.

And he knew as well that it had to look like a jerk move to send someone out against several demons but refuse to help. 'Good luck'. It slipped off his tongue before he really thought about it and then he just prayed they didn't catch it. Good luck? Really? What was that even supposd to mean? 'Try not to get killed while I sit here in the warmth and drink beer?' Shit, he just wanted to bury his head in a pillow. He had to look so cowardish.

Still the night only seemed to ge better: As he turned he could already see Lindsey approaching again. But then her eyes flickered sideways and she redirected with a huff. How was he so blessed? He turned in the direction she had looked to and was faced with the same blond who had scoffed at the apocalypse comment the evening before, holding one whiskey to his chest and another out to Sam.

He accepted for common courtesy, his eyes never leaving the other's, which were stark blue and sharp like a vulture's, but also impossibly sad.

"Thanks."

"You seemed like you needed it."

"I'm technically at work, but you're not wrong. ...You come here a lot?"

"Not really. I just saw your reaction to the news the other day and have since been thinking about how to approach you. Then those three cornucopias of sensitivity came."

He was going for a chuckle, god's honest truth, but in the end he laughed out loud. Yeah, that fit them well. But it also confirmed that the man was a hunter, too. Great, another one.

"Now, I... I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, not any more than you already are at least, but considering they called you 'Sam' and you're pretty tall, ...you wouldn't happen to be the larger than life Sam Winchester, would you?"

He unwittingly ground his jaw with downcast eyes in expection of what had to come next, but then the guy half raised his hands in surrender and took a step back:

"Sorry. Promise not to bother, I just didn't expect to see you alone after all I've heard about the great Winchester brothers."

"So, you're also a hunter then."

But to his shock, the blond's face fell until he looked almost stricken while his hands were lowered again and he took a mighty gulp of his whiskey. How come?

"No. I'm not. Once I fought the good fight, and I was good at it, devoted to the cause, a perfect soldier for the right thing, you know the drill. But no. Not anymore. Now I'm just me."

Oh, he didn't expect that. Now he felt guilty, so he offered the other a seat, which he took, and sat down himself, already empathizing with the stranger, who was much less talkative now, but maintained his polite tone throughout.

"What happened?"

"Urgh, a great number of unpleasant things. Personal things, personal losses."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, that was hardly your fault. What happened with you?"

"Personal mistakes. And... losses for not just me."

"Sorry, Sam."

But he didn't prod. They just sat in silence, and even though he gave no explanation for anything, Sam felt more understood and comfortable than with Lindsey and the hunters together. When both drinks were empty, he still stayed with the former hunter until the bartender started sending him dirty looks. He was, after all, still at work.

He felt a bit guilty for just leaving the blond, but that evaporated with just a friendly smile under still sad eyes and a nod of understanding. And Sam... he just felt better. He had not realized just how much he missed and needed that pure companionship the stranger had so easily gifted him. In fact he felt so unusually light that he remembered only after he had risen and taken the glasses and walked three steps away:

"I almost forgot, I never-"

"Nick. Though I doubt these silly tags really matter."

"...Thanks for the drink, Nick. I did need that."

"No problem. See you, Sam."

 

Sam did not remembered the last time he could have called it so, but they parted amicably.


	3. The Crucial Leap

The rest of the day went fairly okay, now that he was so relaxed. But it did not last long into the night.

He was the last one at the bar, just cleaning a last few things up, when the doorbell rang again. At that time, he didn't think ill of it though. He just called out that the bar was closed and made to finish the table. But the steps came closer and he was compelled to turn after all. Only to find Tim.

"Hey?"

"There something you wanna tell me, Sam?"

Well, that didn't sound good. But he was probably just paranoid. The hunter couldn't know anything.

"What? No."

Except he looked like he knew something. He looked outright accusatory.

"You sure about that?"

"I-I don't kn-"

But then he noticed the blood.

"Geez, are you okay? Where are Reggie and Steve?"

"Oh, Steve's good, he's uh... his guts are laying roadside outside the Hawley five-and-dime."

Shit.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry don't cut it, Sam."

He knew that, but it was all he could say. And Tim was clearly after something specific.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth, Sam."

Now that was too general. But Tim was not in the waiting-for-answers-mood anyway.

"Okay, fine. Gonna give you some of my own, then."

And he told his story. A nasty story made tenfold worse when he said that the demons had told him something about Sam. He tried to get out of that by saying that demons lied and that was true. They did. But he also already knew that the demons had not lied about that. And Tim believed that, too. He demanded the truth from Sam.

And then the door opened again and Reggie dragged Lindsey in and held a knife big enough to behead vampires with to her throat. That poor innocent civilian, facing mortal danger just because he had talked to her. She really might be next to die, all because he thought he could run from who- from what he was. But maybe it was not too late to save her yet?

"Just take it easy, okay? Put the knife down."

With a nod from Tim, Reggie did so, but the tension could still be felt in the air. And he just knew that they would not rest until he admitted it.

So he did. Vaguely at first, for Lindsey's sake. But Tim was not satisfied and demanded more. Like that would help.

"Why? You gonna hate me any less? Am I gonna hate myself any less?"

Because he did. He hated what he was and what he had done. He hated his stupidity in listening to Ruby, his pride over every demon he had killed with his mind and his bleeding heart for making him break his family's basic principles as soon as he saw a chance to save more people, he hated so much of himself. He hated _himself_.

But he was not going to let Lindsey die just because it was easier to drown himself in self-pity. He would fight for her innocent life. Even if it was hunters threatening her. So maybe his tone got a bit biting:

"What do you want?"

"I wanna hear you say it."

So he did. He told him up front that he had started the apocalypse. And it was still not enough. He would not win this or even just get out with his words alone. He knew that the moment he saw the vial. And he might still have asked, but even then he already knew that there could only be demon blood in it.

Then Tim laid out his sick idea of an arrangement: He would relapse and avenge Steve or Lindsey was dead. And while Sam did not quite believe thst he could be serious at first, because hunters just didn't do these things, they saved people; when he questioned it, he could see in the hunter's eyes that he would. He really would kill an innocent, a human, to get what he wanted.

He tried to tempt Sam, too. And yes, there was something in him that wanted the fix, but the much bigger and stronger part of him knew that he would never let that happen. So Reggie attacked. But he attacked the wrong hunter, Sam knew how to handle himself in a fight and Tim had to join in the fray.

Just... they were hunters, too. Good ones. And they knew how to work together. He used all his towring size and his considerable strength, but before he knew it, he had an arm slung around his throat from behind and was struggling to breathe while the vial got closer. Insistent pressure forced open his mouth and it was uncorked.

One held him. One was about to force-feed him the supernatural drug. His heart felt like it was trying to jackhammer through his rib-cage and black dots danced over his eyes from the panic that roared through his mind. He didn't see a way. He wasn't seeing any way out!

Suddenly the vial dropped. He saw it dimly but the sound of it cracking was so loud and clear to his ears he almost thought he could hear the blood gush out of it, too.

"Tim!"

Yes.. Tim... why had he dropped it? As the immediate danger subsided his perception cleared again, just in time to see the hunter drop to the ground, no longer truly moving any more but twitching around the vamp knife that was embedded in the back of his neck, thrown from a distance to kill him in an instant.

He looked up at the same time as Reggie, but his reaction was quite different. The hunter dropped him and snatched the knife with a spit curse: "Demon!"

Sam knew better, though. He saw that the way he held himself was not demonic, not just cold, but also proud like a righteous man. He would have guessed that he was a hunter even if he didn't already know the blond with the sharp blue eyes.

"Wrong. But you could try checking the mirror, you might find something closer to it there, considering your most recent actions. A civilian, really?"

Reggie didn't answer, though. He hissed in anger and shot forth like a pouncing lion. Not that it was any use. Sam was stunned to behold the retired hunter, who avoided and deflected blows with the ease and elegance of a dancer. It dumbfounded the attacker, too. And then came the counter-attack.

As sudden as a snakebite, unexpected and unequaled in precision, the underhanded jab impaled the hunter below the naval to paralyse him with shock and within the same moment, Nick pulled his blade out again and slashed it across the petrified hunter's throat. He went down gargling blood.

For a long moment after that both Sam and Nick just stared at the body, before the blond finally lifted his eyes from it and fixed them right on Sam's:

"I am sorry, Sam. But they crossed the line with their willingness to murder an innocent civilian and their attempt to- ...to force you to do that, to make you into that. They were not hunters anymore, but just like the things they hunted."

He stared straight into Sam's eyes and it... it felt like the bond implored him to accept what he had done, killing the two. But how could he beg Sam for acceptance after what he himself must have overheard about Sam to know their plan?

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know the weight of what they tried to force on you."

"Then you know I am no better."

"I never judge without knowing the context."

Did starting the apocalypse really need context? It seemed pretty clear on its own to Sam. But he was also impossiby grateful at just the chance of not being judged for his mistake. He had only tried to do the right thing... and it had backfired horribly. But it was long since known: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. He had erred. But not Nick, he was right in intervening like that.

So Sam nodded and he could see the tension fall off of the hunter, who approached easily now and held out a hand. Sam took it and let himself be helped up, still not quite knowing how he deserved this. Together they released Lindsey, who promptly ran away like a bat out of hell, probably thinking they were all psychos with how they talked about the apocalypse and demon blood and everything.

But she would surely run straight to the cops, Sam's fingerprints were all over the place and the two bodies needed a hunter's burial. The decision was made quickly and Sam only hoped that the owner had insurance as they cracked the bottles and spread the liquor and set then lit it with a single spark. But with such an amount of accelerant, the building would be beyond saving before the firefighters even arrived.

And by then, they would be long gone. Sam followed his savior to the blond's jeep without question. In fact, they didn't talk at all for some time. When Sam winced at the sirens rushing past them, Nick turned on the radio for distraction. This silence was not comfortable.

Yet soon every local station talked about the bar fire and Sam turned it off again to not have to hear it, causing Nick to tense. But that only made it clearer that they had to talk about this. Sam could not have another Dean situation. Not with Nick, who was so companionable before. They had to clear this and maybe they actually could:

"We should talk about this."

"True. But where start?"

Well, that was a good start right there. Nick was open to discuss their problems, not like Dean who always acted lik- No, he didn't want to go there. That could not help him right now.

"For one, I wanna thank you."

"Thank me?"

"You saved me, Nick. You were right. What they wanted to make me... do... become... I am eternally grateful to you for preventing that."

Nick looked over from his staring at the road and his eyes softened just that bit and a tiny little smile curled his lips. The entire mood in the car lifted at once.

"It was my pleasure, Sammy."

And somehow Sam didn't even mind the nickname. But something did nag at his brain.

"It's just.. um... Y-your blade."

"Yes. It's not from around."

Mostly certainly not. Sam knew the silvery weapon only too well.

"That's an angel blade."

"You're not wrong."

"How did you get that?"

"The only way anyone could get one, I'd imagine. I stole it from its angelic owner. I won't pretend that it is not a tad suicidal for a human to go against an angel, but as they say: 'Pride will have a fall'. And those arrogant sons of bitches underestimate their enemies almost by default. Besides, a weapon that can kill demons and even angels is a valuable asset in the face of the apocalypse."

He could only agree with that. But being reminded of the apocalypse was uncomfortable again...

"Talk to me."

"Hm?"

"I understand if you don't want to and you don't have to, but if you think it could help you: Tell me how that thing with the apocalypse happened. Is that why you stopped hunting? Out of guilt? Because I do believe I've heard people say that making amends works better to help with the guilt."

"It's not... just guilt. I'm unreliable. If I went on, I could make things much worse."

"Why?"

"You gonna tell me what happened to you?"

"If you want, yes."

He looked the older hunter in the eye and knew that it was the truth. He would answer if Sam asked. Even though it would most certainly hurt him. But he would, if Sam asked. Out of nowhere that Sam could determine they had an openness between them that he had never felt before. He always had to watch what he said, with Dean, with dad even more. He always had to censor his speech or risk a fight. But not now. Now he felt like he could say anything. Like he could speak freely. That was it. He felt free.

And so he told the near stranger his life's story. From the situation with his father and brother, over his frequent attempts to leave the life of a hunter, to college and Jess and the visions and Azazel... He trembled as he admitted what the yellow-eyed demon had done to him, how he had changed him as an infant. And a hand found his, comforting wordlessly so he could finish his story.

He felt like he should push it away. He wasn't a baby anymore! But that was Dean's thinking and teaching, passed on from their father. No chick flic moments. Men didn't talk about feelings and they definitely didn't hold hands. But no-one would judge him here. Reminded so he admitted the nightmares that plagued him, always had, and how Jess had held him at night. Sometimes more the mother he never had than a girlfriend.

Nick held his hand tighter. He understood.

By the time Sam had finished with losing Dean, Ruby's manipulation, the angels, the seals and opening the cage, dawn was breaking and his throat was sore. Only then did Nick let go of his hand again to grab a bottle of water and offer it to him. He sipped it in trepidation. Now Nick had to say something. Something meaningful. He visibly picked his words and started softly as though Sam were a doe about to flee. Maybe he was. He felt on edge enough after all his confessions, in dire need of the other's acceptance.

"I won't tell you that what you did is nothing. But you have to keep in mind that you are one of the main players in an event that will decide the fate of the world. If someone like Tim makes a mistake, he can get himself and his pals killed. If you make a mistake, even just a tiny miscalculation, hundreds can suffer for it if not thousands or more. What I mean by that is: You cannot be judged by the same standards as other people. This was forced upon you. This..."

Their eyes met as Nick slowed the car to a stop and he felt the waves of sympathy wash over him and the sincerity of his words and how very much he did not judge him, even after everything he had heard:

"Sam, my heart breaks for you. This is too much for anyone to bear. So no, you don't deserve to be blamed for the apocalypse. No-one could have done it any better or less bad and by the way, your brother is a damn hypocrite to condemn you for one honest mistake based upon the will to do good after he started this with two choices made out of pure selfishness."

"He... what?"

"I admit, I can't quite blame him for being broken by a demon's torture any more than I blame you for being fooled by one. But making that deal? His sould for your life. There was no altruism or thought of the greater good behind that, just egotism. He cursed you to watch him die and live out your life without him because he was not ready to do the same. As far as I'm concerned, he got you in the crosshairs for those demons. You only failed to handle the consequences. And anyone who is remotely human would have failed in your place. I firmly believe that."

With that he started driving again and focussed on the road as a clear sign that there would be no debate about his opinion. It was set. And it was in favor of Sam. Clearly and forever.

"...Thank you."

"But?"

"It's good to hear that not everyone blames me, but my brother does. And I don't know how to mend that."

"I know what that feels like. And I'm afraid I can't help you. I don't know know how to repair that particular broken bridge, either. But you're not alone. Always remember that."

"I will."

And he would always treasure the feeling, too. Except...

"But I can't quite see how you could possibly ever do something as bad as me."

"No? I already have. Just keep in mind the different scale and I have done worse than you."

"Yeah? How? I mean, you don't have to talk about it..."

"No, it's okay. I... to put it in a nutshell: I condemned someone innocent to die, just because I was jealous. I lost my home and my family. All of them."

Sam gulped, but he could not count how many had died since he released the devil so he could hardly judge Nick now. Not when he could see the pain in every line of Nick's body. And then he noticed the ring.

"Y-your..."

He indicated it with a nod and got his answer:"Dead."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to propose to my girlfriend, too. But if she had been my wife... words do have meaning and 'widower' is a harsh thing to identify as."

For a long moment then there was silence and Sam looked over to find Nick inspecting him with something different in his gaze.

"What is it?"

"I'm just... not the wife kind of guy."

"I don't understand."

"I do like the long hair, but I've never looked for a woman."

He needed a moment to process that. Not a woman, but long hair. ...Had Nick just implied what he thought he had implied?


	4. So Close

Nick fancied him. Wow. This stunning hunter, who danced around an enemy like it was a game, who attacked an angel and got away with his life and a new weapon, fancied him. Even after hearing all that crap. Even knowing that he was not actually fully human.

...But how should he react? Nick was also certainly older than him, by a decade at least, maybe two. Although he was pretty handsome for that. He could probably undo a man with just his eyes. He was fit and knew how to use what he had. And Sam really hadn't had this kind of chance in a long time. Not with someone he didn't hate himself for. He simply didn't hook up with just some stranger he'd met at a bar, he needed an emotional connection. Which he definitely had with Nick...

Argh, but what was he even thinking? That never ended well. Sure, the more he thought about it, the more aware he became of that inner need, both for relief and and for intimacy. He could never allow himself to do that with a civilian girl, but Nick... maybe he was an option? He would be able to defend himself. But did he really know what he would be getting himself into?

"It's dangerous to be with me. Everyone I get down with always seems to die."

He looked over pleading, though not knowing what he was pleading for. For Nick to leave and be safe? Or for him to stay anyway so Sam would not have to be alone again?

And Nick, well... His friendly smile lost its softness as he looked back at Sam and let his eyes wander all over him, scanning every inch, and it became wider and it became wicked as a glint appeared in his gaze. He grinned and caressed his breath with his tongue, so slinky was his tone:

"Some people are attracted to danger. And I gotta say: You look worth the risk."

He shivered in reaction and he coult feel his blood rush south. This got real hot real fast. ...Maybe a bit too fast. He really didn't want Nick to get hurt because of him.

"I don't think you understand the risk. Any of those sons of bitches find out, and they always do, you'll be in the crosshairs for the rest of life. They could torture, mutilate or even kill you trying to get to me."

"And I don't think you understand my situation, Sammy: I have lost everything I ever loved and everyone I ever held dear. And I can't go back. There is no way. What I have lost I can never regain. Right now, Sam, you are my best reason to live for at all."

Sam was shocked to hear just how miserable Nick really was. He was tempted to ask for his story, but at the same time he suspected he really didn't want to hear it. And it made him think of his own losses again, his bond with Dean among them.

That was probably lost for good, too. Because every time before that he had left, Dean had always tried to keep him. Even after their fight about Ruby and the demon blood, he had still warned him not to go. but this time? This time Sam suggested that he should leave, Dean agreed. That was the worst kind of first.

And he could not bear the thought. He needed something good right now! He needed to breathe, he needed an outlet for all the emotions cooking in his tightening chest right now. He needed to do something, to punch something, or do something else.

"Pull over at the next motel."

 

He hardly even winced at the bang of the door hitting the wall. They might have thrown it open a bit too hard. But that didn't stop Nick from throwing it back into its lock with the same ferocity. Man, he was stronger than he looked. Strong enough to give as good as he got, even when faced with Sam, whose size advantage failed him today.

They were equally matched as they ripped each other's clothes off, locked at the lips like rivalling stags locking horns. There were just too many intense feelings loose to stay gentle. So he gripped the blond's hips with a brusing strength and was rewarded with nails carving into his back. The hint of pain made him feel alive, while his excitement prevented it from hurting.

He wanted sensations. Any sensations. He just wanted to feel. And feel he did. He felt teeth on his lips, pulling and biting, on his tongue, and he tasted copper, blood, but it tasted like honey to him and it crackled through his nerves like a raging tempest, spurring him on.

He felt heat in his croth, his own and his lover's, and every minute contact was like being licked by dragon's tongue while it breathed its flame. He could not explain how this became to intense. His perception was in over-drive. He was almost overwhelmed. But he only wanted more.

The world tilted suddenly and he realized that Nick must have pushed him onto the bed, but he hardly felt it under his back. Or was he laying on his chest? No, he felt Nick shouldering one of his legs while he leant on the other, spreading them and situating himself inbetween. Wow, he didn't remember the last time he bottomed. ...Perhaps because he never had.

He'd always been curious, true, but it was an extremely vulnerable position. And he was a hunter. He didn't like to feel vulnerable. He needed to be ready any time to- Oh, lord, Nick had leant down, he'd noticed, but he didn't expect this. Okay, he'd hoped for it. But especially after the blond just assumed that he could top his larger partner, he had no longer expected him to go down on him.

And least of all that far! Many had wanted to do this for him, but less so when he realized that he was a very big boy in every way. And even when they tried to take in as much of him as they could, they always ended up using their hands, too. Not Nick. He could have put a pro to shame with the way he gulped him down entirely, like some huge constrictor snake that swallowed everything in its path whole.

Sam's hands found the short blond hair without meaning to. He really shouldn't. Nick should always be able to pull off and breathe, because there was no way he could breathe around the massive log in his throat. But Sam couldn't bring himself to let go. He just didn't want to let the sensations end:

Not that tight ring of lips around his base, so very tight, or the slithering tongue, that should have been pushed down flat under the weight of his erection and yet still pressed upwards against the sensitive underside with all its strength, coiling and dancing across his tingling nerves, or the rhythmically convulsing walls of Nick's throat, that tightened around him so unforgivingly, a constrictor snake might really have been embarrassed to be compared to this beautiful strength.

And it didn't end. He felt a wave of guilt rise in his chest at the thought of choking Nick, of not even letting him up for breath, but the blond didn't even try to pull back. He apparently didn't need to breathe. Realistically, the moment probably just felt much longer than it really lasted and Nick held his breath for that time, but just for a bit he liked the illusion that he could stay like this forever.

At last he could make himself give up his hold on Nick's hair and the blond instantly pulled off of him, to which he inadverntantly whined. A chuckle answered him and a hand found his cock instead. But just a hand. He whined once more, needing more, and the mouth came back. But not to his cock, no. It closed around his balls his time, squeezing them almost harshly, and he whined in delight.

He grabbed Nick by the hair again, simply powerless to resist and pulled him closer, so close the side of his face pushed against his cock anyway and the stubble on his chin tickled his perineum. And Sam had a thought. He had heard about this, but had always been too ashamed to ask. With Nick, however, he felt like he didn't have to be ashamed of anything.

So he pulled him, hesitantly, testingly, deeper down. That sinful mouth let go of his balls and followed his lead without resisting, tongue sneaking out to play and pave the path with kitty licks as teeth dragged over his sensitive nerves, setting him on fire.

And then he reached the right place and Nick did not hesitate to kiss his ass in the most literal way and lap at the quivering hole, furled in on itself so tightly and yet only waiting to open up. And he wanted it. He was perhaps not completely sure, doubt still nagging him not to put himself into that kind of situation, but he knew inside that he wanted everything from Nick.

And Nick knew it, too. Soon enough the tongue was joined by a soft finger pad, testing for permission, tickling him and asking to be allowed inside. He spread his legs wider to convey his acceptance, but there was still a tremor in his body that was not completely on board. He ignored it. And he could feel that Nick's patience was slowly but surely running out, too.

It was only understandable. The blond had been pleasuring him every way he wanted for god only knew how long no without getting anything himself. So Sam steeled himself, pushing the last resistence of his paranoid hunter mind to the sidelines, and the finger briefly left to welcome a cover of lube and then returned thoroughly slicked to prepare him for something much bigger.

He didn't actually know how big it was, as he hadn't gotten a good look yet, but maybe that was for the best. Just remembering how his own partners had often reacted humbled his anticipation now. He should expect discomfort, maybe even pain. But he knew it would get better and be worth it in the end. Except he remembered some limping on the morning. But he put those thoughts out of his mind. He was being ridiculous, worse: childish.

And then the finger, slick as it was, tried to probe inside, and he did want it, but his nerves got the better of him, he clamped down and the pressure stung and he winced away. Nick jerked back as if he had leaned on an on-turned stove.

"Wait! Sorry, I'm sorry, it was nothing, I j-"

"Shut up."

He was doing the puppy eyes, he knew he was and he hoped it worked, but he didn't want Nick to change his mind. He couldn't let that happen. After everything he done for Sam without so much as a 'please', he deserved to have what he wanted, what Sam had as good as promised him with his previous compliance...

But the puppy eyes didn't seem to work. Nick's eyes were hard and his face dead serious as he looked down at the younger hunter. But then his hand cupped Sam's face and the thumb carressed his cheek so softly and he spoke as adamant as fair as divine justice:

"Don't ever let yourself be forced. By yourself or others. I want this, I want you to let me inside you. But I don't want you to try against better judgment only to realize you can't do it too late. I don't want to have to abort an attempt and come away with you damaged. We will do this the right way. When you are comfortable with it and we are positive you can actually go through with. Okay?"

"Yes. Thank you. So much. But what about you?"

Nick was so understanding it was almost otherworldly. People just weren't like this. They should be. By law and moral, consent could be retracted even after it was given and if that happened all actions had to be stopped, immediately. But people were seldom as they should be. And even when they did as bid, they could still be pissed. He couldn't even have blamed Nick for being angry. He was only human. But it would appear that he was also perfect in every way that Sam could think of.

"It'll be fine."

"No, that would be too unfair. We can do something else?"

He could blow Nick. He had done that before. Once. Half-way, at least, before his partner reacted to him choking with trying to hold him there and thus triggered the hunter's fight-or-also-fight-reflex, which prompted him to very nearly break the guy's wrist to get free. He'd never tried again. But he knew Nick was different. He would never make suck a dick move. Sam would try with him.

But Nick looked him deep in the eye, scanning for hidden indicators and ultimately turned them both over. Sam was surprised to be suddenly on top, but he knew this. Most of his partners had been women anyway and the rest still assumed he would top because of his size. Nick had wanted something else, but yielded to Sam's conflicted feelings and stupid trust issues.

And now his understanding smile expended back into his previous smirk, while he gripped the headboard and spread his legs to give Sam's access, wicked as a vixen and inviting like the forbidden fruit.

"We can absolutely not do something else, Sam, but I'm perfectly fine with switching roles. If you'd like to fuck me maybe?"

"...How the hell do I deserve you?"

"Being you is a good start, but getting on with it _now_ might help as well."

A laugh escaped him, but Nick's eyes only sparkled in amusement, and Sam really didn't need to be told twice. He had been teased for what felt like hours and still has yet to come. Within seconds he found the tube of lube and coated several fingers on both hands liberally. One closed around Nick's cock, which was admittedly not as big as his, but also not in any way lacking - not like Nick's easy confidence had implied any need to compensate for something.

And the other one was meant for his hole, to get him open for his own unpractically sizeable cock, but after the sting he had felt, he was concerned he might hurt his partner. He didn't have to be. Nick moved one hand to cup the back of his neck and pull him down almost to his mouth, but just almost:

"Don't worry about me, big boy. I can take anything you have to give. Just. Let. Loose."

Then Nick kissed, never stopping, and he did. He started with two fingers, until the one he had originally intended, but he trusted that Nick knew himself. And he was right to. The older hunter didn't even tense, he only moaned as he was entered and two soon became three. But the blond, as tight as he might appear, hardly needed preparation. It felt like no time at all and Sam could coat his erection and enter him for real.

Total constrictor snake. Nick clutched him with his body like a vice and drew him in further, milking him all the way. And every teensy little moment Sam felt like he should go slow or give him time to adjust, any moment he held back even the slightest bit, his amazing lover gasped:

"Don't pull your punches, Sammy. Just give me everything."

He told him to shed his chains and be free, to do as nature demanded without restraints. And Sam had never felt so free. He'd always worried he might hurt someone or be rude or something else. But he had always worried. Always. About doing the thing, saying the right thing...

But he no longer had to. With Nick, he could just let everything go.

He could speak his mind and fuck him until the bed banged against the wall. His conscience could allow itself to fall asleep. Nick would watch over him.

 

His beautiful boy exhausted himself until sleep took him, but Lucifer remained awake. He had come so close today. But he still had the time. And it was nice to get to know Sam. After all, he did like this one human. He might even give him a happy ending. If he could contrive it beside winning the apocalypse.


	5. Fall Asleep (and never wake again)

It was night when he woke up again.

"Hey, handsome."

What a lovely way to wake up: His lover's rich voice greeting him warmly. Sam smiled before he even opened his eyes. His heart did clench a tiny bit after a second, though. He loved this. He loved how he felt right now and he never wanted to lose this feeling again. But did it have any chance to last?

He had barely met this guy a couple days ago. And what was he going to do now anyway? The bar had burned down. Should he just go find a new one and wait until more hunters came and recognized him? ...What was Nick going to do?

Sadder now he reached for his lover, only to find the bed empty and cold. But he'd just heard his voice, had he not? In a fright he opened his eyes and was calmed. Nick was sitting on the window sill, looking out. He seemed to be sad, too.

"Is there something interesting?"

"Yes. But nothing that requires attention."

"Hm?"

"I was just watching the stars."

"Oh."

He considered it for barely a moment and stood. With just the sheet around his shoulders for warmth he walked over and wrapped his lover in his arms.

"You're cold."

"I know. But you're here to save me from freezing, right?"

He smiled at the mock innocent tone and kissed the side of Nick's smirking mouth. It was really more Nick saving him than the other way around.

"Why did you leave the bed, Nick?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you watch the stars instead?"

"Yes. I like them. ...I can relate to them."

"Huh. I always wanted to be a bird or a star when I was a child. I dreamed of freedom. No-one stashing me in some moldy motel room, no-one ordering me to train, where to go or not, or what to do."

"And you thought that birds and stars are free?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Because nothing is truly free, like we would dream to be. The bird will always be a slave to gravity and the demands of his biology. He will never be able to leave this earth for a better one, which makes it just another cage. A big cage and a beautiful one, sure, one whose bars we'll never see. But it is a cage nonetheless. And the stars? They can't escape the invisible powers dragging them any more than a bird could escape the earth. The attractive forces that hold the universe together make them as unfree as horses in a carousel, just going round and round on predetermined lanes. In the end, all perceived freedom is just acceptance of necessity. We all have our roles to play, Sammy."

He wanted to argue against that, but Nick looked so broken and bitter as he said these terrible things that Sam knew he would not hear it. Nick just had no faith, all his hopes soured from disappointment and despair. And it told Sam something else, too: If they separated, the former hunter would almost certainly kill himself.

So they really had no other choice than to stay together, right?

He really hoped Nick would not see a reason to part them, because frankly: Sam was so hopeless himself right now that he just could not bear the solitude of being without Dean anymore. But how could anyone really keep his hope together when Jess' prophesy had so clearly come true? He could not run, his past was chasing him always and it always killed those around him when it arrived.

But Nick could hold his ground. He was the one Sam dared to stay with. So he pulled him back into bed without meeting resistence and just snuggled into him, kissing him and feeling his comfort without going further. Just to feel that he was not alone. And Nick instantly understood and gave him everything he needed.

Come morning, Sam said it. He didn't ask, although his tone the the following silence made clear that disagreement could be voiced then. But none came. And when Sam finally found the courage to look Nick in the face, he smiled so sweetly it was outright contagious:

"I think we should stay together, too."

"Good. Great! We should... um... What would you like to do?"

"What I'd 'like'? Just to spend my time with you. Realistically we should go find work, though. Be that permanent or just whatever comes up as we drive around."

They picked the latter and kept moving, sometimes helping out at bars, sometimes hustling, sometimes just repairing something at motels. It wasn't much, but it kept them afloat. Especially since Nick hardly seemed to eat, which worried Sam, or sleep, which generally led to more money in the morning from whatever he did to pass the time.

That worried Sam, too. But Nick didn't want to talk about it, so he dropped the topic. Especially since Nick's distraction of choice was going down on him. So perhaps he got his nutrients that way? Sam laughed at the thought, before he had to struggle to breathe under the onslaught of sensations. Nick was just to good at this.

Sam especially took to rimming, perhaps because it bordered on the taboo and he had a thing for the risky, at least while that risk was just a mental thing and did not actually mean that anyone - especially the innocent - might get hurt. That taboo was of course Sam's ass.

Nick seemed to adore it. He always gripped it tight when Sam ploughed into him or lightly kicked it with his heels to spurr him on like an actual stud. And when it was Sam who lay on his back and Nick pushed up his legs to undo him with his mouth, he sometimes - only playfully of course - bit it and his thighs. He had even smacked in once as a joke.

It stopped being a joke when Sam got a freak idea to up the ante and, lightly shaking his ass at him, invited his lover to spank him into good behavior. He didn't even know himself what he had been thinking, but when Nick actually put him over his knee and told him that he was such a good boy normally, but he had been bad today, neglecting to make his bed like he should, it somehow just did something to.

He didn't know why, and he stubbornly refused to even think about the chance that maybe Nick's age might not be something he liked him in spite of, but rather another reason for it, that maybe he could possible have a bit of a daddy kink. He did know that he had daddy issues... and Nick always took care of him, giving him hugs and love when he felt alone or cold and making his food - surely just because he was the much better cook - and showing him how to move and fight better ever since Sam had complimented his technique, almost like a mentor... but no, that couldn't be.

Except when he spanked him, pushing their crotches across each other with every hit, Sam did not feel humiliated. When Nick listed his every trespass, most of which Sam had not even realized at the time, it only showed him just how attentive the older man was. And it didn't feel creepy or stalkerish; it felt like he finally had someone watching over him.

And considering all the times he had been left behind, left alone, mostly by his father but also by Dean when his brother got a chance to hunt with their father, which he always jumped at eagerly, someone who was there for him, always there and just for him, simply felt like exactly who he had been looking for.

There was just that one thing amiss now. Nick had never brought it up again, but Sam knew that he was just being respectful and trying not to pressure him. But Nick wanted to top him. He was the dominant one in almost every way, mostly because of his experience and wisdom, which Sam highly respected and was sometimes awed by, and because Sam found most every decision he made reasonable in a way that he couldn't have thought of something better. But when he did have input or didn't quite agree, Nick listened and incorporated that.

He exuded a natural authority with just the way he held himself and kept his calm under any circumstances, but never tried to use it to order Sam. And so, Sam never felt the need to rebel like he had with his actual father or Dean. Nick just seemed to hear him and even when he kept his own opinion, he didn't just insist, but took the time and care to further support it with more arguments until Sam found himself agreeing with him that it was the right thing.

Faced with that, Sam easily let him make the decisions. In some ways it even felt good. He had less responsibility, less to worry about. Nick took care of that. He took care of him. At home or in public, when someone spoiled for a fight because their girlfriend had made eyes at him or some other thing and Nick pulled him back from reacting to the unfair provocation with a single light touch to the shoulder so he could step in front of him and scare the other guy into backing off with just his eerie calm and hauntingly icy blue eyes.

But no matter how readily Sam learned to submit to him, he still got skittish when he thought about bottoming. He didn't even really know why, Nick took him so easily and that example should calm him, right? But it didn't. Or at least not enough. And Nick accepted that, but that he did so only made Sam feel guiltier. Nick gave him everything, asked for or not. And he couldn't even give him that one thing?

Time kept going by, though, the apocalypse kept getting worse and Sam tried to make it up by being just as attentive as Nick. Which was what led to his realization that Nick barely ate or slept at all. Out of sheer paranoia he painted a devil's trap unter the carpet in the doorway, because a demon wouldn't need food or sleep, a human should. But Nick didn't even notice it, just walking straight through, and Sam felt even guiltier than before.

He asked for another spanking and confessed it, but Nick only smiled that understanding smile of his and reasoned that his previous lifestyle had bred this distrust. He never blamed Sam for anything and it only increased the blame Sam put on himself.

But the day came that he noticed something else: Nick looked a bit ...pasty. First chance he got Sam made chicken soup for him, albeit just from hot water and powder he'd bought, not like Nick cooked from fresh ingredients, as healthy as Sam had always hoped to be after a childhood based on ordered fastfood.

Nick was surprised to say the least, but he rewarded his attentiveness with even more love, both of the carnal and the parental kind, and made Sam feel better, even as he told him not to worry. But he didn't get better. It was gradual, but as time passed he only got worse. Not by behavior, he never coughed or slowed or moved like he was in pain, but he looked worse for wear almost every day.

He kept telling Sam not to worry, but it got so bad that the young Winchester thought he could see his veins through the skin now. He wanted to take him to a doctor, but Nick said no. And for the first time, they didn't talk things out. And it escalated. Because the pillow they shared was covered in dandruff and when Sam forcefully ripped his lover's long-sleeved shirt off, more skin came flying off. And Sam saw the extent of what Nick had hidden from him: Whole patches of skin - some the size of coins, some as big as apples - were missing, they had just flaked off at some point..

"Oh my g- Nick, what the hell? What is this?!"

He didn't want an answer to that, already knowing that there was no way he would like it, but he needed to have one. No, actually he needed to wake up from this nightmare. But Nick's response... He was a hint apologetic, but mostly just tired.

"This is my body failing me, Sam."

"B-but... What? You need to go to a hospital! Asap!"

"No."

"How can you say that? You need-"

"A hospital can't help me, Sammy. Don't you see? This is not the result of natural causes. No doctor can cure my condition."

It was like a punch in the guts. But it also explained why Nick didn't want him to worry. If he couldn't change it anyway, that would only hurt him. Like it did now.

"You're c-cursed."

"Beyond saving. I'm sorry."

"No. N-no, no, no. There is a way- There's always a way. We'll find something! We'll jus-"

"I'm sorry, really sorry, Sam. But even angels and reapers couldn't stop this."

'Angels and reapers'? And he sounded so sure. As sure as anyone could only be if they had already tried. ...Nick had an angel's blade. Had that been just strategy to face the apocalypse? Or had he already tried everything to find a cure, even angels. And if even they couldn't help anymore, who they could raise a damned soul from hell? How could anyone else...?

"How did this- How could this happen to you? What kind of creature-"

"Sammy, please. Don't torture yourself over this. It was probably cruel of me to even approach you, to lead you on, knowing what I knew about myself even then. I'm so sorry to hurt you like that."

"No, I- I needed you. I need you now, too."

And he pulled him in, hugging the dying man close to his chest a burrowing his face into the crook of his pale neck. Why did he always lose everyone?

So he kissed him. He kissed him like it was their last night on earth, because for Nick that might be true. The older hunter was hesitant at first, a bit shocked by the Winchester's abrupt and intense reaction, but he soon enough he melted into the fierce affections, the tongue spearing into his mouth, the one hand twisted into his hair and the other pulling him to the bed by his cock.

But as suddenly as he had jumped him, Sam let go. He tore his own clothes off and positioned himself on the bed with a steel resolve. ...On his hands and knees.

"Sam?"

"You said once that this is the easiest position for preparing someone. So do it."

"Sam, you don't have to-"

"I know you wouldn't make me, but I do. I can't let you die without doing this for you at least once."

"S-"

"No! I will do this. Prepare me now or I will do it. But you're better at this, so I'd be more comfortable if it was you."

There was a moment of silence and he waited with bated breath, but eventually Nick undressed and got the lube. He lowered himself onto the bed slowly and first just caressed Sam's back and kissed the bottom of his spine. He helped him relax with whispered gratitude and warm touches, but then the weight on the bed shifted unexpectedly and Sam was pulled back by the legs.

He twisted to look and found Nick to be lying on his back, his head once more between Sam's legs as he held his crotch above his own face with one hand on his hip, while the other found his hole and just caressed it for now, but wet with lube as it did so.

Then the head of his cock was engulfed in wet warmth and that one wet finger kept just lightly pressing down on the outside while the wicked mouth he knew so well worked him to full hardness. Only when he groaned and ground down did that finger breach him to the first joint. But he was so high on pleasure he hardly noticed it. And it really just dipped in, leaving again but a moment later.

And then it reentered and left and the same again and again and to the second joint now and several times more and to the knuckle as he started to feel it through the haze of a throat convulsing around him. It was kind of weird at first, but then it crooked and he rocked back like a bucking horse from the shock of pleasure that zapped through him all of a sudden. That had to be that wonderful sport he had heard so much about. Well, those stories were definitely not exaggerated.

He pushed back, searching for more, and more he got. Nick rubbed it mercilessly and Sam could no longer tell if he wanted to push forth into the mouth or back into the finger. When a second joined, he was briefly in favor of the mouth as the stretch burned a bit. But the slight discomfort passed fast and the same happened when the third joined after.

And then they were gone. And he felt cold. He was also a bit humiliated at the thought of his ass gaping open, but Nick already moved to get behind him. He held him tight and there was a knew blunt warmth just pressing on his hole and kisses covered his shoulders as his lover bowed down over him. But nothing more happened.

Fuck, he was about ready to burst and that bastard was seriously going to make him wait for it?

"Go on!"

"Are you sure?"

"Obviously! Now, Nick!"

"I need to hear it, Sam. Do you invite me in?"

There was something about his tone... Like there was more weight to what he was asking than just taking the last step on a path they had been walking for the past half hour. Had they not been headed here all that time? But Nick had always been big on consent and bottoming had been a issue, so that would explain it. And in all honesty, Sam was too hot and too hard to really care.

"Yes, damnit! Yes!"

 

He would never know what really happened after that. Lucifer dropped his crumbling body and took over Sam's without a moment's hesitation. And the second he was in, he took Sam's consciousness and locked it into an illusion. A dreamworld to keep him from rebelling. And from suffering the guilt of what he had just made possible.

Lucifer did like him. But the apocalypse had to happen. So the best he could do for Sam was to spare him the knowledge of all those billions dying. He let him dream of a better world, but the real world would be his. The war was on.


	6. Happy Ending

It was not even hard. The war. Although the elder brother had been hidden from him just as thoroughly as his own vessel, the idiot called not long after his acquisition to meet up. Apparently an angel by the name of 'Zachariah' had messed with his head, showing him a future in which Lucifer ruled the world. Well, nice.

But the problem with fate that humans always failed to understand simply because they didn't want to accept its truth was that it was by definition inevitable. Dean had seen one way of it coming true, but in trying to escape it, he had only opted for another path to the same end. He had given the devil his whereabouts.

It was not a long fight to have him possessed. Now there was no way he would say 'yes'. The horde of demons in his head would make sure of that - yes, a horde, because Meg reported that a 'Bobby' had overthwown a demon in his head and considering Dean's willpower he wouldn't take that risk. He obviously wouldn't kill him until there were no more angels that might resurrect him. And he always kept him close so that there was no risk of an excorcism freeing him.

That way, Michael could possess only that half-brother. A pitiful vessel, barely more than a boy and without any drop of Campbel blood in him. Like Michael didn't know that the point of Sam and Dean was the merging of those ancient bloodlines. Not to mention that this was not the righteous man who broke the first seal. This one would- he could never end it.

So was it really a surprise that Lucifer won the duel? Hardly. It didn't even take very long. They only scorched about a quarter of the planet before he was able to finish it. Admittedly, it was a very heavily populated quarter, so a bit more than a billion people died in those first couple days, counting North America and Europe together, and Sam would be very upset if he knew. But he didn't, so who cared?

Raphael was not quite at peace with him winning, though. He tried to barricade himself, the other angels and the blessed souls in heaven. But that didn't last. Not against the Lord of Hell and Earth, all demonkind and their hellhounds, too. Heaven lasted longer than Michael with its plentifil armory, but Lucifer had all the patience in the world and his army only grew in the despair of those that had survived the duel on earth.

With time, they wore heaven's defenses down and when he killed the last resisting archangel, the host of heaven died within the day, while his demons rejoiced. Though that obviously didn't last, either. Disgusting things. He had them kill all else that might oppose him, then rounded them up and vanquished their race. Now he had it all.

All except for one thing. He had hell, earth and heaven. He was the king of every living thing and everything dead. He tore the cities down and let roses grow across the world. But he had no company. That seemed great at first. He hated pretty much everyone, so getting rid of them all was a relief.

But the familiarity crept up on him like the growing shadows of the oncoming night. He had entertained himself with some great and lovely illusions like this before. Because he was alone now, isolated. And all of a sudden he did not know if it was real anymore.

Was this the world? The one out there? Or had he made this for himself? A plan? Or a creation of his own mind to keep a semblance of sanity in this madness? Because it was drivining him insane that he no longer knew. Had he ever been freed from the cage? Or just made the artificial reality inside it to appear so?

He'd done it before... to test his plans and to soothe his rage while he waited to be freed. He had imagined what he would do once he was free. He had done it so often and so realistically that he no longer knew if this was the real thing now or just another test-drive. He tried to test the world around him, to see if it was real or just a false reality within the cage. But there was no telling if he had ever escaped. Not for sure.

And finally he realized the true extent of his punishment. He had often felt like the cage was driving him mad. And now he kept that paranoia with him, the doubt of reality itself. He might have escaped his personal hell, or not, but even if he had, he hadn't. The madness and the terror stayed.

 _'... Horror and doubt distract_  
_his troubled thoughts and from the bottom stir_  
_the hell within him, for within him hell_  
_he brings and round about him, nor from hell_  
_one step no more than from himself can fly_  
_by change of place. ...'_  
                                      - John Milton

Nothing he did alleviated his madness, that hell within, and nothing gave him peace. Nothing until he gave it up. To rule the world, to have it for himself, brought him nothing good. So he left it all, this possible but doubted reality, behind for what he knew was fake.

He joined the dream that he had created for Sam:

It was actually quite good. To be taken. The stretch might burn a bit but he would it with ease to be touched so deep inside, in just the right place. He found his completion with scarcely a touch to his cock and blacked out with the intensity. Afterwards, even though they were both long awake, they stayed in bed.

It was the only place either of them wanted to be: In each other's arms.

Even when life went on, they did everything they could to spend as much time as they could together. As much time as they had. As much as Nick had left. In secret Sam tried to find a way to cure him after all, but nothing worked. Nothing until that fateful day.

The media called it an unforseen meteor burning out in the atmosphere. But any hunter could have told that that was just pseudo-rational bullshit made up to explain the supernatural to the masses. Fact was that something huge had exploded in a burst of flames in the sky. In fact, it looked like a smiting.

They were both anxious in the aftermath, barely brave enough to breathe. Was this good? Or, as usual, really really bad? Like really really really apocalyptically terrible?

When the answer came, Sam did not believe it. The ringing of his phone had ripped him from staring at the sky and to see Castiel's name on it had confused the hell out of him, but to hear it? He dropped his phone in his shock. But Nick picked it up and after recognizing the angel's name from Sam's stories told him where they were.

At once Castiel apeared before them, beaming with heavenly bliss and only confirming what he had said on the phone:

It was over. His search, as desperate as it had started and unlikely as it may have seemed, had been successful. He had found God. Apparently He had been waiting for His angels to come to Him ever since the very first seal broke, but the foot soldiers had only followed their orders without question and the archangels had wanted the apocalypse, so no-one came. Until Castiel.

The angels had failed their test, taking care of earth without his guidance for a time, but now that it was over He cleaned up their messes. So God smote the devil. And after everything that Sam had suffered, He offered him one reward.

Sam had only one thing to ask and Castiel took Nick with him. It was hell to wait and he almost climbed up the walls, but finally his love was returned to him, whole and healthy by the Grace of God.

They never returned to hunting. Castiel accompanied Dean now, his personal guardian angel (and more as Sam suspected but never asked to not hurt Cassie more in case his idiot brother had not yet gotten his head out of his ass). But Sam, Sam had found happiness with Nick. They both had stable jobs now, and a cat, in their house, where they moved after marrying.

He had always wanted this. Domesticity. (Peace.) But hunting had always dragged him back. Because the demons had had their plans with him. Now that was all over. Now the devil was dead and the demons had fled back to hell in fear of God. Now he loved his life.

(Even though it was a lie.)


End file.
